Understanding
by Exes and Ohs. 2
Summary: Harry is depressed and suicidal over his breakup with Draco. Can Harry get over it? (suicidal!harry)


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, Hermione, Ron, Dray, etc. I don't own the lyrics to this song, 'Understanding', Count the Stars does! 

**Author's Note:** First Short Story in a loooong time! Woo hoo! Draco/Harry slashiness, or, well, nothing major because it's after the breakup. Just pretend you understand, and leave me comments ^_^ 

Takes place in 7th year. 

-----**-----**-----**-----**----- 

Harry Potter turned startling green eyes to the person next to him, piercing his with a steady glare. The red head beside him writhed slightly in discomfort, shrugging off the comment he made that caused Harry to get angry. On the other side of Harry, Hermione Granger placed her hand on his forearm, attempting to calm him, but failing miserably. 

"Run that by me again, _Ron_, " Harry snapped, narrowing his eyes slightly, pulling his arm from Hermione's grasp. 

"I just said I heard him in the corridor and -" 

"_When_?" Harry lowered his voice, not wanting anyone else to get in on the conversation. Everyone eavesdropped in Gryffindor, whether they admitted to it or not. Loyal as they may be, they liked to gossip. At least most of them did. 

Moving so that she could hear, too, Hermione leaned into Harry, resting her chin on his shoulder, eyes dark with worry. Ron leaned forward himself, lowering his voice as well. It was even _more_ tempting for the surrounding Gryffindors to eavesdrop, watching Ron, Harry and Hermione huddle like that to keep secrets, but they pretended not to notice. 

"Last night, I was coming back from Snape's detention, and I heard him in a classroom, arguing with someone. And I heard him say that his feelings for you were false, or something. He sounded like he was speaking to an adult, with the way he was talking." 

Harry let his gaze wander over to the Slytherin table, studying the person that was the topic of their current discussion. A pang of hurt coursed through his body, causing his stomach to turn and his heart speed up. Fighting to keep a neutral face, he watched the blond Slytherin laugh, his hand entwined with Pansy Parkinson's ontop of the table. He brought his attention back to Ron and Hermione, trying to forget about _him_. 

"Please forget about him, Harry, " Hermione pleaded quietly, her lips beside his ear. To anyone who didn't understand Hermione and Harry's relationship, they'd say their relationship was almost sexual. "It's been weeks." 

Harry started to open his mouth, to, once again, explain that the blond knew _everything_ about Harry, that their relationship had been too deep, too meaningful to just 'forget' about it. Instead, he swallowed thickly and, forgetting his anger toward Ron, stood up. He touched Hermione's hair for a second, then nodded. 

"You're right. He's over it, so I am too. I'm going to go to my room. I'll see you at supper, if I'm not in class." 

Hermione sighed, watching with Ron as Harry left the Great Hall. When they turned, Ron caught Draco Malfoy staring at Harry's retreating back as well, his fingers no longer interlocked with Pansy's. Draco dropped his gaze, but not before catching Ron's glare, and when the two met each other's eye, Ron made a rude gesture. Hermione hissed and smacked Ron's hand down, saying something to Ron in a low whisper. 

Harry had seen Draco looking, however, because he'd been looking too. A cold knot rested at the bottom of his stomach, while he tried to decide how everything had gone wrong. 

_Do you take advantage of your time?   
Because you only live once   
Do you ever analyze your life   
and fine empty spaces?   
And every now and then it seems like I'm always sinking   
And every now and then you feel like you're never living_

Draco Malfoy pushed his blond hair out of his eyes, staring at the front of the classroom. He wasn't paying attention to anything Snape had to say, but it didn't matter. School didn't matter at the moment. The fact that Harry hadn't shown up to class concerned him, since he looked awful at lunch. 

_Stop it!_ He thought, mentally shaking himself. _You broke up with him for this exact reason. You don't need it. You're better than that, Draco_. 

But even after he repeatedly told himself to stop, his mind wandered to Harry, and wondered what he was doing. He had a fairly good guess, but it didn't make him anymore happy to know what he could be doing. It upset him, despite the facade he put on in public. 

"Mister Malfoy," Snape said calmly, shaking Draco from his thoughts. Draco looked up, his mask falling into place, hiding his concern and worry easily. 

"Professor?" 

Snape studied Draco for a moment. He could see in his student's eyes the concern he had for someone. Three guesses as to _who_ he was concerned about. More times than not, Draco had ended up outside his professor's classroom after supper for advice, though Snape himself was terrible at offering any kind of support or advice. 

"I have a job for you, " Snape said, turning on his heel and heading back to his desk to sit down. Draco rose from his chair to follow, noticing that everyone had started on their potions while he'd been thinking. Granger and Weasel were working together, only Granger concentrating on the potion. Weasel's mind was elsewhere, probably the same place Draco's had been. 

Tearing his eyes from the two friends, Draco made his way to Snape's desk. It was cluttered with essays and exams that most of the student's had failed. Broken bottles and half full potion flasks were on a shelf behind the desk, dusty with age. Piles of potion's books surrounded an empty space, used for grading papers. Broken quills and ink jars of various colors were scattered everywhere on the desk, making Snape look more of a mess than he generally was. 

"I need you to bring this to Madame Pomfrey in the Hospial Wing, " Snape handed him a potion's bottle full of a greenish yellow liquid, with a note attatched to it. "And bring this to Headmaster when you see him there." 

Draco took the potion and note, then frowned. He'd seen the potion before in the Hospital Wing, more often then he should have. Shaking his head, he made his way out of the classroom, but not before glancing at Granger again, who's eyes were suddenly wide, recognizing the potion as well. It didn't matter who it was for. If it was for Harry, then so be it. Snape had chosen Draco on purpose if it was for Harry, but his professor wouldn't do that to him. 

Wouldn't he? 

_What was it that made you think   
That I could just sit and take this?   
What was it that made you think   
This is understanding?_

Harry raised his head, setting his jaw, as he held his arms out to Professor Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey. He sat in the Hospital Wing, wearing nothing but shorts, revealing his scarred and cut body. 

After leaving the Great Hall, he'd begun his descent to his flat, which he acquired when he became a Prefect. As he begun to say the password, Professor Dumbledore had come up behind him, saying he needed a word. 

And, well, here they were. 

"Potter, I thought you were done with this?" Madame Pomfrey asked, eyeing Harry's newer cuts with a look of distaste. Harry wasn't able to bring his eyes up to _see_ his professor and the nurse. It was an awkward situation, as it always was when this happened. Only three times in the past, and only once when he was going out with Draco. 

Harry winced. _Forget about him_. 

"Harry, " Dumbledore said, his voice cautious and gentle at the same time, softly touching Harry's shoulder. He looked up momentarily before looking back at his lap, lowering his cut and scarred arms. He heard Madame Pomfrey walk off as a door opened. "What happened this time?" 

"I can't stop, professor, " Harry began, trying to find the words to explain it. He struggled, going through the past month's events, but came up with nothing. No good reason why he'd done it again. 

Instead of asking 'why', or telling Harry to stop doing it, Dumbledore pulled up a chair and sat in front of Harry. He touched Harry's chin upward gently, making Harry look up into the Headmaster's eyes. 

"I have seen many students lose their minds over this exact thing, Harry. I have been a teacher and Headmaster for many, many years. I have seen the most brilliant student's take the wrong way out, and I swore after the last student passed, that I would never allow this to happen again. I will not hide the fact that I'm disappointed, or that I was extremely surprised that you had been doing this behind mostly everyone's back. Do you know why I'm disappointed, Harry?" Dumbledore asked gently, and Harry shook his head. He began to lower his gaze back to his lap, but Dumbledore touched his chin again. "Because you are so much better than this. You have defeated Voldemort _twice_ -" 

"-and killed tons of people doing so!" Harry argued, his anger peaking out for a second. Dumbledore pursed his lips a moment before continuing. 

"I understand how hard it is to cope with what you have done. Watching so many people die will break something in you. But I've seen you happy, Harry, truly happy. What happened to that?" 

Harry lowered his head again. He was not going to tell this man - his _Headmaster_ - his personal life. There were things he did not share, whether they had been public or not. Reasons for cutting himself were one of those things. 

Taking the hint, Dumbledore retraced his steps, and went back to his main point. "Cutting yourself isn't _bad_, Harry, don't hate yourself because of it. But it isn't good, either. It's an addiction, and addictions come and go in life. You can get through this, I know you can." 

"Yes, sir." 

"Harry, look at me, " Dumbledore said quietly, and Harry mustered enough energy to look up at the Headmaster. "I know it's unfair, but I will contact Sirius and Remus about this if it continues." 

"_What_?! No, Professor, you can't. You -" 

"They have known since the beginning. They thought you stopped. That's what you told them, correct?" Harry shut his mouth and nodded slowly. "Then stop lying to them and get help to stop." 

"How do I get help?" Harry asked softly, his energy to argue having run out. He didn't want to deal with this right now. 

"I'll contact some people for you. I'm glad to see that you're willing to get help." 

Dumbledore patted Harry on the knee gently before standing up and replacing the chair to where it had been. He studied Harry, and his scars that traced along his arms and down his sides, which he knew went down his hips to his thighs. With a slight frown, Dumbledore turned to return to his office. 

Standing in the doorway, however, was Draco Malfoy, holding out a healing potion and a note. 

_There's something in this air tonight   
And I'm lost for you to find   
Maybe it's for the best   
To say goodnight_

"Here, professor, this is from Professor Snape, " Draco said, tearing his eyes from Harry to hand Dumbledore the note. Dumbledore took it from the Slytherin, then studied Draco a moment. "What happened?" the boy asked. 

"Maybe you should ask him yourself. He may be pleased by your show of concern, " Dumbledore answered, with a slight amount of anger. Afterall, it was this boy's fault, at least partially, that Harry was in this position to begin with. 

"I don't think -" 

"Mr. Malfoy, " Dumbledore sighed, shaking his head. "I have been in this position many, many times. Speak to Harry if you want to know what's wrong. Otherwise, return to class." 

Dumbledore took the potion from Draco, and quietly walked past the blond to speak with Madame Pomfrey. Draco stood in the doorway, staring at Harry for a long moment, taking in the way he looked so small and vulnerable with his scars shown to the world. 

Swallowing thickly, Draco turned around to leave the room. 

_Do you ever wake up in the night   
And wonder why you're alone?   
Do you pay attention to your friends?   
Tell me why you listen   
And every now and then it seems like   
I'm always waiting   
And every now and then you feel   
There is no escaping_

Harry made his way to supper that night, feeling worse than he had earlier. Not only had Dumbledore and Pomfrey seen the scars and cuts, but both Hermione and Ron somehow knew about them. He didn't know how they knew, but when he'd entered Potions late, (surprisingly, Snape didn't say anything to him, nor take points) Hermione told Harry he'd have to show her his arms later that day. 

It didn't matter, Harry kept telling himself. They didn't matter. Dumbledore had basically forced him into a corner. He could easily say that he didn't care if Remus and Sirius knew, but that wasn't true. They had gone through too much to make Harry happy and live a good life the past two years, ever since Sirius became legal. It wasn't fair to either of them to be told that Harry had lied to them, had been hurting himself, and was in a deeper depression than anyone could think manageable. 

Making his way through the crowds of Hogwart's students, Harry made his way into the Great Hall, his mind occupied by the nagging thoughts of suicide. He sat down at the Gryffindor table, across from Hermione and Ron, his back to the Slytherin's. He didn't want to see Draco, not now anyway. He wanted suicide too badly at the moment to be pushed even farther. 

"Hey, Harry, " Ron smiled, taking a bite of his chicken, wiping his hands on an already dirtied napkin. "What were you doing?" 

"Changing, " Harry said with a shrug. "After Hagrid's class I went running." 

"That's where you were during Divination. Trelawny had a fit, I'll tell you. She 'predicted' all kinds of things." 

"Figures, " Harry sighed, staring at his empty plate. He wasn't really hungry. "Quidditch practice tomorrow, then?" 

"You're the captain. You tell me." 

Harry shrugged. "Fine with me. I'll go tell everyone, " he stood up, wanting any kind of excuse not to eat. He didn't remember eating at lunch or breakfast, either, but that didn't matter. Hermione frowned at him, fully aware of his intentions, but said nothing. They'd have words later. 

After telling the other 5 players on the quidditch team, Harry made his way back to his seat. He sat down, putting his chin in the palm of his hand, watching Hermione and Ron eat their supper without many words. Hermione glanced at Harry often, but said nothing. 

"You should eat, mate, " Ron pointed at the empty plate sitting in front of Harry. Harry glanced down, then merely shrugged. 

"I'm not too hungry right now, Ron. Thanks for your concern, though." 

Ron frowned but said nothing. Harry's mind slowly began to wander, from thoughts of suicide to the relationship he'd had with - 

_No!_ He told himself, forcing his mind to think about the quidditch practice tomorrow morning. Quidditch didn't give him the thrill it used to- but he still liked it more than anything else. It gave him _something_ to look forward too. Besides, school was out soon, and he'd be graduating. 

"I'll meet you guys in the Common Room. I think I'm going to write to Sirius," Harry stood up, and before either of his friends could protest, Harry left the Great Hall. 

In the Common Room, Harry pulled up a sheet a parchment, dipped his quill in a bottle of ink, and began writing to his Godfather. 

_Dear Sirius - _

Hi! How are you doing? I hope things are well with you. How is work at the Ministry? Is Mr. Weasley treating you properly? He better be! 

I'm writing partly because I haven't had a word with you in months, and partly because I've been having problems. I just need advice, is all. Nothing else is wrong, so don't worry. 

Harry hated lying to his Godfather, but it had to be done. Biting the end of his quill, Harry thought about how to phrase what he wanted to say next. 

_Malfoy and I broke up. We aren't even talking anymore, and that bothers me some. I know you had many girlfriends when you went to Hogwarts, so how did you get past this feeling of..nothingness? I hurt so much, and I miss him more than anything. But I also know we can't ever be together again, because we've been through too much to get over. I don't know what to do, other than wait it out and try to get over it. What do you suggest? _

I have to go study. Write back soon! 

Love, 

Harry 

Harry re-read the letter, then folded it into an envelope. He addressed it to Sirius, then went to his flat up the stairs to find Hedwig. She was sitting on her perch, looking out the closed window longingly. 

"Hey, Hedwig, " Harry opened the cage and pet her lovingly. "Bring this to Sirius, will you?" 

She nipped his fingers affectionally, waited for him to open the window for her, and flew away into the setting sky. Harry watched her with sad eyes. He'd do anything to be able to fly away from his problems, which he may as well do. It didn't matter anymore. Draco _knew_ Harry's problems, and he still did this to him? 

Cursing to himself, Harry shut the window and made his way back to the Common Room to meet Ron and Hermione, stopping only once to pull up his sleeves and study his now-closed scars. Madame Pomfrey had given him a potion that Professor Snape had made (which had tasted awful) that helped the healing process in cuts. Frowning, Harry pulled his sleeves down and got a seat beside the fireplace. 

_There's something in this air tonight   
And I'm lost for you to find   
Maybe it's for the best to say goodnight   
The broken pieces left in me   
Broken up from everything scatter away   
Can you just say goodnight?_

Having nowhere to go, and nothing to do, Draco found himself wandering the corridors of Hogwarts after supper. He had finished his homework hours ago, and at the moment, regretted having blown through it so quickly. With nothing to do, and no one to see, he was awfully bored, and his mind wandered. 

"I'm sorry, " he said to himself, stopping beside an open window, staring out at the night sky. "I'm sorry I've hurt you." 

Perhaps the only reason Draco had ever _considered_ his feelings for Potter- Harry, rather- was because of the death of his father. With Lucius out of the way, Draco could _live_, and be seventeen, without the fear of his father's punishment. It didn't matter if his father was dead because of Harry Potter. His father had died a loyal, and true, death, defending his master, which was the only true way to die. Defending what you honored. But Lucius had died over a year ago, with Voldemort dying minutes later, at the hand of a then-sixteen year old boy. 

Harry Potter _was_ a remarkable person, Draco thought sadly. He had every reason to be as depressed as he was, and do the things he did. He was even happier around Draco than ever before. So why had he broken up with Harry? 

He had no real reason. Saying that it wasn't working out would be a lie. They were perfect together. Saying that Harry's mood swings were grinding on Draco's nerves, and while this was true, Draco didn't mind them enough to break up with his love. So what were the reasons? 

Instead of brooding on the questions, as he always did, Draco stuck his hands in his pockets and made his way down to the Slytherin dungeons. Maybe he'd talk to Harry tomorrow? Maybe. Possibly. Lord knew he wanted to speak with him again. 

With the thought of talking to Harry, maybe apologizing, Draco made his way back to his Common Room to think in the comfort in his bed. 

_And I'm still searching   
For that something we all look for   
You now wait for   
I'm still searching for   
That something we all look for_

Hermione was beyond upset with Harry. He had shown her his scars, his cuts, and she had cried. He hated making her cry, but he couldn't do anything about it. This..this was _him_. He was the cutter. The cutting was part of his lifestyle. Well, that's how _he_ looked at it anyway. 

Ron, on the otherhand, was pissed off, but not at Harry. He had repeatedly muttered under his breath about kicking Malfoy's arse. 

It didn't improve Harry's suicidally depressed mood. 

And so, Harry found himself curled up in the corner of his room, huddled against the wall, holding against his upper arm a razor blade. Sure, he could easily use a spell, use his wand, make it easier on himself. But he liked the pain. The pain eased his nerves, made him think more clearly. It put him in a drunken state that relieved some of the emotional hurt and pain. 

Slowly, however, Harry lowered the blade, studying his scarred arm. He hated, detested, his scars. His scars made him feel ugly, feel uneasy all the time. Even if he was well hidden, or by himself in his own room, like he wasonw, he felt like everyone was staring at him, or talking about him. 

There were steady, clean scars, starting from his wrist and moving horizontally down his arm until his elbow. Long scars trailed vertically, criss crossing at parts. Scars dark, light, puffy and barely visible lined both his left and right forearms. He knew without looking the sides of his stomach were criss-crossed as well, mostly dark scars that trailed down his hips to the top of his thighs. He hated himself for what he did, but when he needed to cut, scars were not what he was thinking of. _Carpe diem_ is what Draco had once called it. To enjoy the momentary pleasure without thoughts or concerns of the results. 'Seize the day' 

But at the moment, neither scars nor cutting was on his mind. Draco, and the pain he'd caused, were. Ridding himself of pain- that was on his mind, as well. He'd tried everything to get his mind set back on school, to be the way he was before, but he couldn't. He couldn't _remember_ how he was before, which made everything so much harder for him to get through. 

Staring down at his arms once more, he placed the blade on the maroon carpet and took his wand from his pocket. He pressed it against his left arm, and thought a long moment. 

_Is it worth this?_ He thought to himself. He recounted the days since he and Draco had broken up. And why? What were the reasons, again? Draco couldn't handle himself well around Harry anymore, in fear of losing him, having him slip through his fingers through suicide? That was one reason, Harry knew. He didn't remember the others. All he remembered was the searing pain through his chest, the feeling of his heart break and his world crumble around him. The last bit of hope, the last bit of _sanity_ he held for Draco had diminished in those few minutes after Draco had walked out of Harry's life. 

_That was three weeks ago today_, Harry thought miserably, continuing to stare at his arms, his eyes filling with tears. _And Draco simply doesn't care_. 

Wiping his tears furiously, Harry leaned his head against the wall. He couldn't commit suicide- could he? He'd make Remus and Sirius awfully upset, he knew, and Sirius would think he'd failed James. Harry shook his head at the thought - it wasn't anybody's fault except his own. Ron and Hermione would miss him horribly. Hermione would cry, and Harry didn't know if they'd ever get over it. Most likely. The Wizarding World, in Harry's opinion, could bite him. Ever since he defeated Voldemort, he'd been merely 'The-Boy-Who-Defeated-Voldemort', and nobody _cared_ to notice him. Maybe that's why Draco had liked Harry- nobody else had? 

_I can do this.._ Harry told himself, took a deep breath, pressed the tip of his wand to his scarred arm, and allowed his mind to say good-bye. There would be no note, no spoken or written good-bye. He was done. 

"_Taglio_," he whispered, and clenched his jaw in sudden pain as wisps of gold shot from the wand onto his arm. The gold wisps cut long, deep gashes along his arm, causing blood to well up in the wounds and quickly begin to drip. 

Harry Potter did not feel remorse nor regret. 

_How could you think for yourself   
At times like these?   
Was it me or my intentions   
That you miss?   
Take them out of me   
And save them for yourself_

Draco Malfoy stood amongst the students and teachers, adults that Draco had never seen, perhaps 'fans', and the Ministry. He recognized Remus Lupin, his 3rd year DADA teacher, standing with Sirius Black, Harry's Godfather. 

_Harry._

Tears dropped from Draco's eyes, but he quickly wiped them away. Harry had been in pain, and he'd passed on, to rid himself of the hurt. Draco knew this, because Harry had said himself months before this that if the pain and hurt got too unbearable, he'd ... 

_Why?!_ Draco's mind screamed. Why had he done such a stupid thing? It wasn't stupid- Harry didn't _do_ stupid things. Draco was the stupid one in the relationship, ruining and wrecking things that didn't _need_ to be ruined. It was perfect. 

And why? 

For what cause? 

Questions that would never be answered. He wondered if Harry was watching him right now. He figured if Harry was _somewhere_ watching, he wouldn't be wasting his time on Draco. 

Draco Malfoy had caused this pain upon Harry Potter that would never be fixed. 

_And the worst part_, Draco thought, _was that I was going to see him the next morning, and apologize.._

With that thought, he watched the oak casket lower into the frosty ground, holding the only person he loved more than anything. 

_Harry Potter   
The-Boy-Who-Lived   
July 31, 1980 - January 15, 1998 _

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I think this story crapped out at one point and went downhill from there.. :X 


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